Published: Saturday, April 6, 2013 at 10:09 p.m.

Last Modified: Saturday, April 6, 2013 at 10:09 p.m.

James Brunelle sat still as stone as David Trainer applied Vaseline, then smoothed blue, putty-like silicone over the place where Brunelle's ear used to be.

Brunelle, 37, had placed a lot of confidence in this British-born wisecracker, whose cubbyhole of an office in Naples is sprinkled with random spare people parts: a finger here, an eyeball there.

A lineup of white gypsum heads — Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, a guy from “Reservoir Dogs,” that kid from “The Sixth Sense” — stands sentinel, at once solemn and sightless from the top of the cabinets.

Brunelle, of Port Charlotte, remained just as still as Trainer slathered on the jelly and siliconed the other side, right over his only ear and into the ticklish ear canal.

Brunelle had been told that Trainer was an artist of sorts, a trained maxillofacial prosthetist who, with flesh-colored paints and molds and a 200-degree oven, could fashion body parts that were indistinguishable from the real deal.

Brunelle is a matter-of-fact kind of guy, and not particularly vain. Even so, he hoped his new ear would look good. Mostly he hoped it would be convincing enough that his 5-year-old son's friends would no longer think he was a monster.

Scary Daddy

It wasn't a slick patch in the road on his beloved Harley that did it, or the time he jumped with abandon from a plane.

No, Brunelle's life-changing moment came at noontime on a plain-ol'-hot August Wednesday last year as he drove his Peterbilt semi north on Interstate 75 in Collier County, back from a job in the Everglades.

That's when his tire tread separated and he lost control; his truck hit a cable barrier, spinning and flipping five times, according to Florida Highway Patrol officers. They said he was thrown from the semi.

Brunelle's back and neck crunched, vertebrae broke. And, as if that weren't enough, in a nasty fluke his seat belt severed his left ear.

Fuel and pieces of the truck and the earth-mover he was hauling scattered across I-75, tying up traffic in both directions as far north as Sarasota for about three hours Aug. 29.

Brunelle was rushed to Lee Memorial Hospital in serious condition; people who saw the scene kept telling him how lucky he was to be alive.

He's mending now, but the back and neck pain continues, and he can't drive trucks anymore. The last recourse is spinal surgery, something he has put off so far.

Brunelle shrugs when asked if he's depressed by the trauma. He is a quiet man, with a smile that, after the accident, didn't always quite make it to his eyes.

But when he heard that a Sarasota doctor wanted to try a new procedure on him that would give him a snap-on replacement ear, he said yeah.

Heck, yeah.

His son, Zackary, could handle his appearance, but recently had told his dad his playmates found him scary.

Jack Wazen, an otologist-neurotologist and surgeon with the Silverstein Institute in Sarasota, was eager to try the procedure, in which titanium implants are inserted into bone. Then a prosthetic ear is affixed with clips.

It's new technology, and this is the first time it's being used in Sarasota, says Wazen, who plans to take pictures and present the case at a medical conference in England in June.

In the past, patients who needed a new ear because of cancer, a genetic defect or traumatic injury could get one rebuilt via plastic surgery. Problem was, the match wasn't always good, and the glue that held it in place wasn't meant for Florida humidity and heat — the ear could fall off in the middle of a conversation or a golf game, Trainer says.

Some patients refused to go out, fearful of embarrassing mishaps, according to Natasha McDougald, South Florida representative to Cochlear, which makes parts for the implants.

The official name for them is fixtures, but they are in essence small snaps implanted into the patient's bone near the auditory canal. They work much the same as the snaps on a Onesie or a child's pajama top. The prosthetic ear, with the opposing snaps on its backside, lines up with the snaps on the implants to easily click into place.

Wazen, working closely with Trainer, the earmaker, determined where best to put the three fixtures on Brunelle during surgery on a windy, overcast January day.

Insurance typically covers the prosthetic, which can cost about $6,000 if paid out of pocket. It isn't just for looks; the outer ear helps capture and focus sound.

Brunelle then had to heal from surgery for about eight weeks. Not only did he lack an ear during this time, but, as if for emphasis, three implants now formed an arc above his ear hole, giving him a bionic look.

Now you see it

Wazen says if he's the technical guy, David Trainer is the magic.

He's been featured in People magazine and other news outlets for the transformations he has created for people worldwide who have lost their faces due to accidents or birth defects.

Trainer even goes Hollywood on occasion, creating creepy facial prosthetics for actors such as Brad Pitt in “Interview with a Vampire.” The souvenir model heads, created from molds of the actors, adorn his office, and Trainer delights in having visitors guess which thesepians they are. (No one gets them right; some mistake Pitt's delicate features for those of a very pretty girl.)

Trainer also seems to delight in his often-shy patients, some of them children with genetic disfigurements.

As he jokes and teases with a Sahara-dry wit, his customers relax, a necessary step when intense focus is being paid to an embarrassing part of the body that's often hidden away.

Over about four days, Brunelle and Trainer will be nose to nose — more specifically, nose to ear — for hours as Trainer creates the prosthetic. The feeling at the Center for Custom Prosthetics is laid back; sometimes Brunelle brings in his daughter, Skylah, who just turned 1 and provides background babble.

The two men joke about possible pranks Brunelle can play once the ear is ready. Brunelle says he plans to tell his mother he's not listening to her, pulling off his fake ear for emphasis.

Or maybe he'll snap it in upside down.

Or maybe he'll stick wire through it to gross out people as a bar bet.

Trainer nods — yes, good plan — as he cautions that Brunelle must also protect the ear from dogs that might see it as a choice new chew toy.

The beauty of a prosthetic attached by snaps is, if Brunelle's ear ends up in a dog's mouth, it can be recreated from the ear mold that Trainer will keep. Because the paint is mixed and applied to so perfectly match the real ear, some people order an extra that is a darker tan for summertime. That second ear: half-price.

During their time together, Trainer volunteers to create a second ear for Brunelle, a free one, painted with the Harley-Davidson logo with red flames. Brunelle is pumped.

After all the waiting, all the days of kidding around, the time arrives when Brunelle's new ear is ready.

Trainer dabs tiny bits of paint to accurately reflect the almost microscopic veins and imperfections on Brunelle's other ear, which serves as a model twin for the prosthetic.

He smooths down the silicone on the edges of the ear to a near-transparent thinness so it will seem to disappear into Brunelle's skin.

One moment, the obviously artificial ear is in Trainer's hand. The next, it is gone, and Brunelle suddenly has two perfect, wholly indistinguishable ears.

The effect, cliched as it might sound, is pure magic.

Brunelle practices snapping it on and off in front of a mirror. It becomes progressively easy, but the illusion remains intact. It is perfect.

Yes, he can shower in it. Swim, too. Skydive if he wants. Ride the Harley without it blowing off down the freeway? Most certainly.

Brunelle shakes Trainer's hands. And shakes them. His eyes go back to the mirror. This time, the smile, the big sparkling smile, makes it to his eyes, to his face, to his very posture.

<p>James Brunelle sat still as stone as David Trainer applied Vaseline, then smoothed blue, putty-like silicone over the place where Brunelle's ear used to be.</p><p>Brunelle, 37, had placed a lot of confidence in this British-born wisecracker, whose cubbyhole of an office in Naples is sprinkled with random spare people parts: a finger here, an eyeball there.</p><p>A lineup of white gypsum heads — Brad Pitt, Matt Damon, a guy from “Reservoir Dogs,” that kid from “The Sixth Sense” — stands sentinel, at once solemn and sightless from the top of the cabinets.</p><p>Brunelle, of Port Charlotte, remained just as still as Trainer slathered on the jelly and siliconed the other side, right over his only ear and into the ticklish ear canal.</p><p>Brunelle had been told that Trainer was an artist of sorts, a trained maxillofacial prosthetist who, with flesh-colored paints and molds and a 200-degree oven, could fashion body parts that were indistinguishable from the real deal.</p><p>Brunelle is a matter-of-fact kind of guy, and not particularly vain. Even so, he hoped his new ear would look good. Mostly he hoped it would be convincing enough that his 5-year-old son's friends would no longer think he was a monster.</p><p><B>Scary Daddy</b></p><p>It wasn't a slick patch in the road on his beloved Harley that did it, or the time he jumped with abandon from a plane.</p><p>No, Brunelle's life-changing moment came at noontime on a plain-ol'-hot August Wednesday last year as he drove his Peterbilt semi north on Interstate 75 in Collier County, back from a job in the Everglades.</p><p>That's when his tire tread separated and he lost control; his truck hit a cable barrier, spinning and flipping five times, according to Florida Highway Patrol officers. They said he was thrown from the semi.</p><p>Brunelle's back and neck crunched, vertebrae broke. And, as if that weren't enough, in a nasty fluke his seat belt severed his left ear. </p><p>Fuel and pieces of the truck and the earth-mover he was hauling scattered across I-75, tying up traffic in both directions as far north as Sarasota for about three hours Aug. 29.</p><p>Brunelle was rushed to Lee Memorial Hospital in serious condition; people who saw the scene kept telling him how lucky he was to be alive.</p><p>He's mending now, but the back and neck pain continues, and he can't drive trucks anymore. The last recourse is spinal surgery, something he has put off so far.</p><p>Brunelle shrugs when asked if he's depressed by the trauma. He is a quiet man, with a smile that, after the accident, didn't always quite make it to his eyes.</p><p>But when he heard that a Sarasota doctor wanted to try a new procedure on him that would give him a snap-on replacement ear, he said yeah.</p><p>Heck, yeah.</p><p>His son, Zackary, could handle his appearance, but recently had told his dad his playmates found him scary.</p><p>Jack Wazen, an otologist-neurotologist and surgeon with the Silverstein Institute in Sarasota, was eager to try the procedure, in which titanium implants are inserted into bone. Then a prosthetic ear is affixed with clips.</p><p>It's new technology, and this is the first time it's being used in Sarasota, says Wazen, who plans to take pictures and present the case at a medical conference in England in June.</p><p>In the past, patients who needed a new ear because of cancer, a genetic defect or traumatic injury could get one rebuilt via plastic surgery. Problem was, the match wasn't always good, and the glue that held it in place wasn't meant for Florida humidity and heat — the ear could fall off in the middle of a conversation or a golf game, Trainer says.</p><p>Some patients refused to go out, fearful of embarrassing mishaps, according to Natasha McDougald, South Florida representative to Cochlear, which makes parts for the implants.</p><p>The official name for them is fixtures, but they are in essence small snaps implanted into the patient's bone near the auditory canal. They work much the same as the snaps on a Onesie or a child's pajama top. The prosthetic ear, with the opposing snaps on its backside, lines up with the snaps on the implants to easily click into place.</p><p>Wazen, working closely with Trainer, the earmaker, determined where best to put the three fixtures on Brunelle during surgery on a windy, overcast January day.</p><p>Insurance typically covers the prosthetic, which can cost about $6,000 if paid out of pocket. It isn't just for looks; the outer ear helps capture and focus sound.</p><p>Brunelle then had to heal from surgery for about eight weeks. Not only did he lack an ear during this time, but, as if for emphasis, three implants now formed an arc above his ear hole, giving him a bionic look.</p><p><B>Now you see it </b></p><p>Wazen says if he's the technical guy, David Trainer is the magic. </p><p>He's been featured in People magazine and other news outlets for the transformations he has created for people worldwide who have lost their faces due to accidents or birth defects.</p><p>Trainer even goes Hollywood on occasion, creating creepy facial prosthetics for actors such as Brad Pitt in “Interview with a Vampire.” The souvenir model heads, created from molds of the actors, adorn his office, and Trainer delights in having visitors guess which thesepians they are. (No one gets them right; some mistake Pitt's delicate features for those of a very pretty girl.)</p><p>Trainer also seems to delight in his often-shy patients, some of them children with genetic disfigurements.</p><p>As he jokes and teases with a Sahara-dry wit, his customers relax, a necessary step when intense focus is being paid to an embarrassing part of the body that's often hidden away.</p><p>Over about four days, Brunelle and Trainer will be nose to nose — more specifically, nose to ear — for hours as Trainer creates the prosthetic. The feeling at the Center for Custom Prosthetics is laid back; sometimes Brunelle brings in his daughter, Skylah, who just turned 1 and provides background babble.</p><p>The two men joke about possible pranks Brunelle can play once the ear is ready. Brunelle says he plans to tell his mother he's not listening to her, pulling off his fake ear for emphasis.</p><p>Or maybe he'll snap it in upside down.</p><p>Or maybe he'll stick wire through it to gross out people as a bar bet.</p><p>Trainer nods — yes, good plan — as he cautions that Brunelle must also protect the ear from dogs that might see it as a choice new chew toy. </p><p>The beauty of a prosthetic attached by snaps is, if Brunelle's ear ends up in a dog's mouth, it can be recreated from the ear mold that Trainer will keep. Because the paint is mixed and applied to so perfectly match the real ear, some people order an extra that is a darker tan for summertime. That second ear: half-price.</p><p>During their time together, Trainer volunteers to create a second ear for Brunelle, a free one, painted with the Harley-Davidson logo with red flames. Brunelle is pumped.</p><p>After all the waiting, all the days of kidding around, the time arrives when Brunelle's new ear is ready.</p><p>Trainer dabs tiny bits of paint to accurately reflect the almost microscopic veins and imperfections on Brunelle's other ear, which serves as a model twin for the prosthetic.</p><p>He smooths down the silicone on the edges of the ear to a near-transparent thinness so it will seem to disappear into Brunelle's skin.</p><p>One moment, the obviously artificial ear is in Trainer's hand. The next, it is gone, and Brunelle suddenly has two perfect, wholly indistinguishable ears.</p><p>The effect, cliched as it might sound, is pure magic.</p><p>Brunelle practices snapping it on and off in front of a mirror. It becomes progressively easy, but the illusion remains intact. It is perfect.</p><p>Yes, he can shower in it. Swim, too. Skydive if he wants. Ride the Harley without it blowing off down the freeway? Most certainly.</p><p>Brunelle shakes Trainer's hands. And shakes them. His eyes go back to the mirror. This time, the smile, the big sparkling smile, makes it to his eyes, to his face, to his very posture. </p><p>He can't wait to show his son.</p>